


Three Glasses of Scotch

by jadesparrow333



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-03
Updated: 2017-02-03
Packaged: 2018-09-21 18:53:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9562175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jadesparrow333/pseuds/jadesparrow333
Summary: Crowley learns of Billie's death





	

He was in the middle of hammering out the details of a deal when he felt it.

There was a huge diffusion of power in the universe. He technically wasn’t King of Hell anymore, a fact he would admit to no one but himself, but since no one had stepped up to claim the title he still enjoyed some of the powers that came with it, such as sensitivity to the balance of power in the universe.

And something big had changed.

He paused as he tried to understand what it was. There was something familiar about it…

“So, are we going to do this or what?” the woman said irritably.

Crowley turned back to her, his best sales smirk on his face. “Yes, of course. Now, if the terms are acceptable, we simply need to seal the deal…”

The answer had hit him a few moments later, but it was not an answer he wanted, so he avoided thinking about it until the bar was empty and there was no one left to do business with.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them again, they were glowing red, a look he wasn’t a huge fan of, but the vision that came with them showed him where he needed to be.

He transported himself to a hospital room in town and leaned against a wall, waiting for the final breath of the person on the bed.

Within a few moments, the person’s breathing stilled and the heart monitor began a long whine, prompting doctors and nurses to come scrambling in the room, taking no notice of the man in the corner with the red eyes.

They also didn’t notice the old man with the slicked back hair standing right next to the hospital bed.

But they noticed each other.

“Here to collect?” the older man drawled as he tilted his head towards the bed.

Crowley shook his head. “No,” he rasped. “I’m here for information.”

The older man shrugged. “Alright. Give me a minute,” he said. He flickered as the doctor called out the time of death, then strolled over to Crowley. “What do you need to know?”

“Your boss,” Crowley said. “Did she-”

The reaper nodded. “She’s gone. Was killed earlier this evening,”

“Ah,” Crowley said, ignoring the pit in his stomach. “Winchesters?”

“Their pet angel.”

Crowley raised his eyebrows. “Really,”

“Yup,” the reaper rocked back and forth on his heels.

“So who’s the new Death?” Crowley asked.

The other man shrugged. “Dunno. No one wants the job.”

Despite himself, Crowley snorted. “Makes sense.” He nodded to the reaper, then disappeared.

His eyes back to brown, Crowley reappeared at the empty bar. He stared off into the distance for a minute, then strolled behind the bar to pour himself a glass of scotch.

Billie was gone.

He took a sip of scotch. It wasn’t the best he had ever had, but it wasn’t bad either. He strolled back to his normal bar stool, carrying the decanter and his glass, and sat down.

She had sauntered past him at the eleventh hour before the end of existence itself with a casual yet sultry, “Hey.” Everything on his mind disappeared, and all he could do was grin like an idiot as his eyes followed her through the room. She quickly gave them a solution to the problem and sauntered back out, but not before looking him right in the eye and saying his name. He luckily was in better possession of his faculties, and managed his most devilish smirk as a response.

The end of existence was of course averted, and Crowley knew he would have to find Lucifer before he found him. As he was working on his strategy, there was a knock on the door of his study. He looked up from his desk to see Billie standing there.

It was a whirlwind. Everything about her was full of passion- their debates, their ideas, and their kisses. A week would not go by without one of them surprising the other with a visit. Crowley couldn’t believe what was happening to him. He had never imagined he could care about someone so much.

As he finished his first glass, he reflected on the moment he realized Billie was with him not because she wanted something from him, but because she actually wanted to be with him. Crowley had never had that before. Not with his clients, subjects, certainly not with his mother, not even with Naomi or Lilith. 

But with Billie it was- had been- different.

They didn’t care about what was going to happen in the future. There couldn’t be a future- Crowley certainly wasn’t going to get married, Billie wasn’t going to get rid of her neutrality to align herself with Hell- but the present was- had been-enough.

Crowley sighed as he poured himself another glass of scotch.

Interesting that it was Castiel who had killed her. Years ago Crowley had killed the woman- well, demon- that Castiel had been in love with (or whatever it was that angels felt in that direction). Now, unknowingly, the angel had done the same to him. 

His mind floated to his time with the Castiel and the Winchesters. He found himself sacrificing more, killing less, and causing almost no mischief. He was even kinder to his mother. He knew it was because of Billie. There was a small moment where he realized he had everything he had ever longed for in the deepest recesses of his heart. Friends, a purpose, an incredible woman-

But the men would never see him as anything more than a demon, no matter how much he helped them, and were always one bad mood away from killing him anyway. Perhaps he was the same towards them as well. His mother still didn’t want anything to do with him. And now Billie…

His scotch was once again gone. 

Crowley wouldn’t be emotional. It was actually impossible, or so he liked to think. So he would be going back to the way life was before. Not a big deal.

But there was definitely a hole that wasn’t there before.

He looked around the empty bar, and noticed it was only 3am in the morning. He wished he could sleep. 

But demons didn’t sleep. Demons didn’t dream.

And most importantly, demons were always alone.

He poured himself a third glass, and thought for a moment.

“Billie,” he finally said aloud, raising his glass.

He downed it and stared into the darkness.


End file.
